The Longest Night
by Khotelu
Summary: Sheriff Stilinski has two sons, and no one hurts his boys and gets away with it. Pre-Series
1. Chapter 1

Another hour passed for Sheriff Stilinski and his grueling 16 hour shift was almost over. A tired, rough hand swept over his face as he willed himself to keep his eyes open and try to finish the stack of paperwork cluttered all over his desk. Taking a deep breath, he glanced momentarily at the clock, nailed on the wall to his left. It was ten past ten p.m. and deciding quickly, he devised a plan in his head to get the papers on his desk completed so he could make it back home hopefully in time to wish his son goodnight before the sixteen-year-old went to sleep. He sighed thinking back to the two previous days in which he barely saw Stiles at all. By the time John was over with his shifts and walking through the door of his house, he would realize most of the lights had been turned off downstairs. He would travel up the stairs trying not make too much noise. Carefully he would open the door to his son's room and sure enough his kid was sound asleep, limbs splayed here and there. Quickly closing the door and making his way to his one room and changing out of his uniform and into some night clothes, he was made his way back downstairs and into the kitchen were a plate of food would be welcoming him on the kitchen counter with a single note placed neatly beside it. He couldn't help but smile when reading the note written by his only son, explaining what dinner the Sheriff would soon be eating, how it was healthy for him, and "Dad, I'm doing this for you. I'm trying to extend your life. You know what the doctor said at your last check-up. Speaking off it has been a while since your last check-up. You should probably schedule another one. Or I could. Actually I think if its better if I come with you..." Taking his son with him to his doctor's was something he did not want to experience again. The only thing worse than his over protective son, was his over protective son and his demanding doctor both teaming up and cornering him about eating healthier, cholesterol levels, or God knows what. He was still traumatized by the experience.

Achey fingers struggling to grip his pen, the Sheriff willed himself to finish his work so he wouldn't have to worry about anything on his day off tomorrow. He gave a small smile reminding himself this was his first day off in a while, and luckily for him it was also Saturday which meant that he could actually have breakfast with his son tomorrow, an experience he had completely almost forgotten. After he got home at night and was able to eat dinner, the Sheriff would try to get as much sleep as he possibly could which meant that Stiles would already be awake and at school once the Sheriff had woken up and had to get ready for another one of his shifts.

Finishing his last paper with a huge sigh, the Sheriff let himself lean into his chair for a bit before finally deciding it was time to pack up and leave. Slinging his jacket on, he grabbed his key cars and was reaching toward the lamp to turn it off when all of a sudden the door to his office opened with a bang. Frozen for a second John looked up and met the eyes of one his veteran deputies, Mike.

"Mike what is it?" He questioned letting his hand fall, as he took MIke's facial expression.

"John..." Mike hesitated his hand still attached to the door knob. He gulped and looked at his boss wishing he didn't have to do this. "There was a call made. It was a drunk driver. He collided with another car. John...oh my God...it was Stiles and Scott. They were in the other car. It was Stile's jeep."

And in that moment John swore his heart stopped beating and he felt his world crumble before him.


	2. Chapter 2

John Stilinski focused on his breathing, taking slow, deep breaths trying to ignore the pounding of his heart inside his chest and the tears welling in his eyes daring to escape. He felt the beads of sweat cascade down his forehead and as he lifted his trembling hand, his whole body shook as he tried to wipe the sweat off. From the corner of his eye, he saw his deputy, Mike, shoot a concerned look at him from the driver's seat.

"We're almost there, John." Mike reassured, raising the volume of his voice higher than normal because of the blaring sounds emerging from police siren. He watched as John nodded his head, taking another deep breath. He too, took a deep breath, blowing it out, before pressing on the gas pedal, hoping, praying that the car would go faster.

"Scott? Scotty?" John literally pushed two of the paramedics away in order to get to Scott.

"S-sheriff?" A fragile voice softly called out.

John felt the tears once again build up in his eyes as he took the state Scott was in. Scratches and cuts marred the young fifteen-year-old's face, and the injuries continued down his chest and to his torso. He wasn't able to distinguish what injuries Scott had below the waist, because a blanket had been thrown over his legs. A neck brace was placed around Scott's neck, and as the Sheriff reached down to grasp Scott's right hand he noticed the IV in place to.

"Hey, hey there, kiddo." The sheriff gave a small smile, as he softly placed hand on Scott's head and carefully stroked the kid's curls with the tip of his fingers, trying to give any kind of comfort he could. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Scott's forehead. As he lifted his head, he continued to gaze into Scott's eyes, feeling his heart literally break into a million pieces. The kid's brown eyes were woeful and hints of fear flashed in his eyes, while tear tracks stained his cheeks. A single tear in the corner of his left eye was daring to fall, and the Sheriff noticed the kid's bottom lip slightly quiver.

"S-sheriff?" Scott asked once more, slightly squeezing the rough hand that had grasped onto his right hand.

"Yeah, Scotty. I'm right here. You're going to be fine." The Sheriff reassured as he slowly massaged the back of Scott's hand with his thumb, being mindful of the IV.

"H-hurts." Scott managed to choke out as the one tear finally escape his eye, several others following suit.

"I know. I know, kiddo. But, they're taking you to the hospital soon and they're going to help you. The doctor, the nurses, _your mother_. They'll fix you up in no time." John reassured the fifteen-year-old.

"Stiles? Is he - " Scott asked, before being cut off by John.

"They already took him to the hospital, kiddo." John answered. True, by the time that Mike and John had reached the scene of the crash, Stiles had already been loaded onto a backboard, onto a stretcher, and then quickly into the ambulance and on his route to the hospital. John had wondered why Scott wasn't taken as well, at the same time, but it hadn't taken him long to find out, and the terror that overcame him was unlike any other. They had to rush his son more quickly to the hospital than his son's best friend, because Stiles was hurt worse than Scott. John had turned to Mike quickly after getting this information to tell the man to get back into the car and drive them to the hospital when he noticed Scott, on a stretcher, a few feet away.

"Let's get him loaded." One of the paramedics, Jeff, who John had known for quite a few years, called out and soon another paramedic plus Jeff were grabbing onto the stretcher, rolling it a few feet, before loading it onto the back of the ambulance.

Being momentarily away from the comfort of the Sheriff, Scott started calling out for John, panic evident in his voice.

"I'm here, I'm here. I'm not leaving." John assured Scott as he hopped onto the back of the ambulance and took an empty seat on a bench. As both Jeff and the other paramedic settled into the back, the doors were banged closed, and soon enough the ambulance was speeding down the road, sirens blaring.

John felt a little out of place, watching as the two paramedics hovered around Scott, checking his blood pressure, pulse, and listening to his heart and lungs with a stethoscope. He couldn't even reach out to grab Scott's hand, so he settled on placing his hand on Scott's ankle, trying to give an comfort he could. A few moments later he spoke.

"Jeff, do you know anything about my son? About Stiles?" The Sheriff asked, looking at the veteran paramedic, his eyes uncertain.

"I don't John. By the time me and my partners got there the first ambulance was already loading Stiles up in the back. You now I would tell you if I knew everything, but I don't know John. I'm sorry." Jeff replied, momentarily removing the ear buds of his stethoscope before putting them back on again to listen to Scott's chest.

"Scott? Buddy, can you take a deep breath for me?" Jeff asked, moving his free hand to place it softly on Scott's forehead, and giving a warm smile down at the teenager who reminded him so much of his own son, Nick, who was only a year younger than Scott.

Scott nodded softly and took a deep breath, and Jeff only had a few seconds to listen to Scott's lungs before the boy took off in a coughing fit. Tears soon started descending down his face, and small whimpers arose from him.

"He has asthma." The Sheriff stated, leaning in a bit toward Scott to let the boy know he was there.

"How long?" Jeff asked, messing with a few of the equipment in one of the cupboards.

"Since he was young. He uses his inhaler daily." John informed the two paramedics. He couldn't stop himself for flashing back to the memory of Scott sleeping over at their house and getting an asthma attack in the middle of the night. Not only did he struggle to talk on the phone with Melissa, who was instructing him on what to do and what not to do, but calm down his own son who was on the verge of a panic attack with the thought that his best friend was going to die, all while Scott was covered in sweat, struggling to breathe.

"Hey, buddy. Are you having any trouble breathing? Does it feel like your chest is tight? You don't have to speak, you can just nod." The other paramedic asked Scott, and when Scott nodded his head over so slightly, the tension in the ambulance grew.

"Alright buddy, here's what I'm going to do alright. Everything's fine, I'm just going to go ahead and put this oxygen mask on you, just so you can breathe a bit better. Sounds good?" The same paramedic spoke while he quickly maneuvered the mask around Scott's face and placed it in it's correct position and allow Scott the ability to breathe better.

"Sometimes, stressful situations can initiate asthma attacks. The kid is pretty shaken up, but hopefully we can get the asthma attack under control." Jeff informed John, who stared at the other man while slowly nodding his head and breathing in a huge sigh. The last thing they needed was Scott to stop breathing.

Melissa McCall was shaking, her scrubs covered in blood while she grasped onto Martha, another nurse at the hospital, who was helping her walk to a chair in the waiting room. She payed not attention to the tears running down her face, as she settled down on the uncomfortable chair, closing her eyes praying that when she opened them everything was back to normal. That her son and his best friend were not just involved in a car accident, that a jackass drunk driver had not barreled into Stiles's jeep, that she didn't witness an entire hospital staff of doctors and nurses struggle to revive Stiles, a young boy that had edged his way into her heart and made a permanent settlement there. And witnessing his body, so cold, bloody and _broken_ being lifted off the table by hundreds of volts, Melissa had all but literally collapsed onto the floor of the emergency room, a heartbreaking sob escaping from her body.

"Melissa, honey look at me. He's alive. They got him back." Martha reassured Melissa, one hand grabbing Melissa's while the other softly rubbed small circles on her back, but there was only so much comfort and reassurance she could give. She too had witnessed the boy flatlining, and it was truly a miracle that they had revived him, but the chances of the boy surviving through the surgery had he just been taken up to was next to nothing. It would be too much for the boy's body to handle.

And that poor boy. She didn't recognize him with all the injuries and blood, but when learnt of his name memories flooded her of a young boy with chocolate brown eyes and a smile that could light up the whole night sky. A young boy, who would come to the hospital everyday after school in order to be with his dying mother, and who nearly was admitted to the hospital himself after experiencing a horrific panic attack when his mother finally passed away.

And now she thought of that little boy once more who had grown in the years after his mother's death, who accompanied his father on his yearly check ups and giving the entire hospital quite the laugh of watching a young son berate his father on cholesterol levels and high blood pressure, and "You can forget about curly fries and hamburgers. It's salad and fruit from here on now, Dad."

As she turned to Melissa once more, she closed her eyes for a minute to pray. Pray to whoever was listening, to save Stiles Stilinski, whose time was certainly not now. The silence only remained for a few seconds more before the ER doors banged opened once more and this time it was fifteen-year-old Scott, Melissa's own teenage son, who was being rushed into the Emergency Room.


End file.
